


Up In Arms

by thelowlysatsuma



Series: Prompts from the Tumblr!verse [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Domestic Fluff, Established Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, engaged!prinxiety, just boys bein cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 16:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18524974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelowlysatsuma/pseuds/thelowlysatsuma
Summary: “YouWHAT?!” Roman screeches, hands clutching his face in horror.(Or, an about average day in the Sanders-Rae household.)





	Up In Arms

“You _WHAT?!_ ” Roman screeches, hands clutching his face in horror. Hurling himself onto their worn leather couch with an audible _thump_ , he clutches his chest in faux-agony, glaring up at the other like he'd just kidnapped Roman's entire family.

Virgil rolls his eyes, well used to this sort of behaviour. “I didn’t have any, I needed some, we _literally live together_ , I borrowed it.”

“Do you have any idea how much that eyeliner _cost_ , Virgil?!”

Wincing at the octave his dumbass fiance’s voice shot up to, Virgil huffs, running a hand through his hair before affectionately poking Roman in the side. “Yeah-huh. I do. ‘Cause you bought it when we went shopping _yesterday_ , Princey.” 

Roman flushes at the old nickname, like he unfailingly has every time Virge used it since he asked Virgil out. Frickin adorable – not that Virgil would ever actually tell him that, mind. His head’s big enough as is. Virgil tilts his head this way and that, sighing in relief when he hears a satisfying crack in his neck, and drops cross-legged onto the couch next to the other.

After an intense glare-off, Roman breaks eye contact. “Fine,” he huffs, slumping dramatically onto his lanky partner’s lap, all pretense of anguish abandoned in favour of snatching a remote off the nearby coffee table and curling into the taller man's warmth. “You're forgiven. But _only_ because you’re adorable! You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Aww,” Virgil coos sarcastically, absentmindedly stroking Roman’s hair with a free hand. “Love you too, babe.” Then he winks, and tacks on, “But we both know I’m a _hot_ paranoid fucker, not a cute one.”

Roman snorts and turns on the TV, and Virgil knows that all is forgiven.

**Author's Note:**

> alternate title: roman sanders, and the great makeup theft of 2019


End file.
